Hate Me?
by Writer of Roses
Summary: Another SephVin story, but this one actually has a plot! After finding Sephiroth in the Shinra Mansion, Vincent's relationship with him gets off to quite a rocky start. Can they both recognize a good thing? Or will Death keep them wondering forever?
1. He's No Ghost

Vincent's head snapped in the direction of the sound behind him. The old, abandoned Shinra mansion was eerie enough to begin with; he despised coming here with a passion, favoring much more lively locations at which he could keep to himself.

There had even been rumors circulating that the mansion was haunted with vengeful spirits, shrieking with anger and fear in the middle of the night, waking Nibelheim's inhabitants. In fact, it had even become a target for games of chicken between some of the more rowdy teenagers, where whoever staying in the longest and going to the most horrific places without running out and pissing their pants wins. It all seemed like a big joke to Vincent, Rufus Shinra and anyone else with a bit of common sense, until a young man was killed and found on the outside steps the next day.

Rufus had a bad habit for paranoia, needing to get the whole mess cleaned up fast in order to keep himself from receiving any more smudges on his record. That was fine with Vincent, but it pissed him off when he was volunteered for the job without his consent. You'd think that Rufus would call on someone a little more willing - like Yuffie.

Vincent was sure Yuffie could handle any sort of job like this, and it would kill any time set away for boredom she could have had. But no; it had to be Vincent, and when he asked why, their excuse was, 'We trust you, and you've got the most free time on your hands.'

As much as Vincent hated to admit it, it was true. He really didn't have anything better to do. He supposed that was why he let himself be suckered into it in the first place, and now he hated himself for it. He didn't like the situation at all, and what was worse was that he kept hearing and feeling things, sensing presences that made it hair-raisingly clear that he might not be the only one in the house after-all.

He walked up to a wall, placing his ear upon the material and tapping away at it with a metal fingertip. It may have appeared odd to a mind unfamiliar with Shinra's scientists and their eccentric ways, but Vincent knew that there were all sorts of trap doors, secret passageways, and booby traps set about, just waiting for someone cunning enough to use them to their advantage. Even for something as trivial as frightening a few superstitious civilians.

The sound that reverberated back to his ears was nothing but ordinary, although he could have sworn that the sound he heard came from there. He shrugged wearily to himself. Maybe Rufus's paranoia was beginning to rub off.

Taking out his cellular phone and flipping it open, Vincent strode leisurely forward, passing a few harmlessly open doors, too wrapped up in checking his messages to notice movement behind one of them. Pressing the device to his ear, he sighed as Barrett's obnoxious, ridiculing voice roared itself into his hearing canals.

"Hey, Vinnie Vidi Vici! Heard you got stuck on ghost watch from Rufus!" He innately rolled his eyes at Barrett's laughter. "Well, after ya finish up there, you know who you gonna call! Haha… Try not to get yourself eaten, ya hear?"

Flipping the phone off again, that was when Vincent noticed the unsettling sensation of a living, breathing body behind him. Turning sharply, Vincent was unable to make out his ambusher before he suffered an impressive blow to the head, and his consciousness faded black.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

When he came to, blurry vision and a headache were there to meet him, unrelenting as ever. He groaned, becoming acutely aware of a strange, technological _beep _that would erratically sound as he tried regaining his senses. Eyes roaming around him, his vision grew slowly clearer as he looked up at a cold, metallic ceiling. The surface he was lying upon was cold and metallic as well, and that was when it dawned on him that he was in one of the old, unused laboratories.

Rolling his neck about and trying to stretch his muscles a tad, Vincent caught out of the corner of his eye, a figure, sitting in one of the unmetallic chairs. He was in a very casual seated position, with one of his legs draped over the chair's arm, his long silver hair billowing into his lap. His head was tilted downward, his luminous green eyes focused on the little thing that he held in both of his hands, his fingers randomly pressing at it and causing those _beeps _that Vincent had distinguished earlier.

Vincent's eyes widened; Sephiroth was playing with his phone. He stared for quite awhile, speechless in shock, when Sephiroth glanced into his eyes, then back at the phone, then did a double take. Then he grinned, flipping the phone closed and captivating Vincent with his eyes. Those terrific, horrific, beautiful, gruesome green eyes.

"Hello, Vincent," he said sultrily, his deep voice sliding like silk along Vincent's skin. Vincent bolted upright then, grabbing his skull in pain the moment he was in a sitting position. Sephiroth didn't flinch – he didn't even blink. "Have a headache?" Then he chuckled superciliously. "Getting knocked out can be a real pain."

Vincent eyed him with unhidden disgust. "So _you're_ the Shinra ghost that's been terrifying the townsfolk?"

The long-since-pronounced-dead SOLDIER licked his lips and resumed his infamous smile. "Why not? If I needed some place to hide and regain strength for awhile, I needed a way to keep most people away from it. So I intimidated a few stupid teenagers, and let the rumors spiral out of control from there."

Vincent sneered at the man that the whole world despised. They had all felt so relieved when they thought he was gone for good. "What are you doing here, Sephiroth? Why are you alive?"

Sephiroth unconsciously flipped the phone still in his hand open and closed a few times. "You would not believe how boring being dead is. I can't believe I was so driven to get there in the first place. 'The Promised Land' is less than disappointing, I'm afraid." Then he tossed the phone into Vincent's lap. "Quite an annoying little thing. I _am _proud to say that I beat your high score on _Snakes_, though."

Vincent picked the phone up and examined it as if it was some unidentifiable alien thing, then shook his head a little to make sure he wasn't still hallucinating from the pain. The absurdity of it all almost blindsided him. Maybe Sephiroth gave him a concussion. "Fine, Sephiroth. I guess I can deal with the fact that you came back from the dead in order to have a new, un-Jenova-influenced life, but what has that have to do with me?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose it wouldn't have had anything to do with you, if it weren't for Rufus's ego problem. I'm surprised you went along with it. I thought you were better than that." Vincent growled under his breath. Was _everyone _going to give him a hard time about his recent lack of backbone? "But now that you're here, and you know _I'm _here, I can't very well let you go, can I?" Sephiroth mused, blinking slowly in order to emphasize how humorous he thought the situation was.

Amazing how that cold stare could so easily heat up Vincent's cheeks. "You can't keep me here," he warned. Although the confidence behind that statement was somewhat feigned; he may have been strong, much more powerful than your average man, but it was a well known fact that Sephiroth could easily take down just about anyone. He might be the only one strong enough to turn Vincent into a helpless rag doll.

Sephiroth's smirk widened – he could tell Vincent was bluffing, and it made Vincent nervous. "Can't I?" he whispered. Then he stood on his feet, sweeping his hair back to rest behind him. Vincent inadvertently swallowed a small lump that had formed in his throat. He forgot how large Sephiroth really was, and with him being on the floor in such an impotent display, the man at 6'1" towered over him with even more superiority than before, if that were possible.

Sephiroth gestured to the room around them. "I know this old house better than anyone, Vincent. And until I can think of a proper way to keep you from spilling the beans to Strife that I'm here, you and I will be spending quite a bit of time together." Then his voice gained a new quality in tone, one that made Vincent's flesh crawl. Could it be defined as lusty? Probably. "And besides – I've been awfully lonely lately, and I don't think a bit of company could do _you _any harm either."

Vincent leapt to his feet, on guard and ready for war. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at him, placing his hand on his hip in a gesture of mockery. "You're awfully jumpy, Vincent," he mumbled maliciously, taking a step forward. Vincent took a step back. "It's almost as if you think I'd do something awful to you…"

He advanced on Vincent, and when Vincent turned to run, he was grabbed roughly around the waist, flipped and rammed against a laboratory wall. He winced, the breath being forcefully knocked out of him. He knew he'd be bruised badly later. He opened his eyes to meet Sephiroth's, a new fire having appeared in those endless green depths. "Running away already?" he breathed into Vincent's ear, his lips grazing the skin. Vincent shuddered, involuntarily taking in the smell of Sephiroth's clothing, hair and skin. His scent was indescribable, and, amazingly – sweet.

"I wouldn't make assumptions if I were you, Vincent," Sephiroth began, ignoring the metal claw digging into his arm at Vincent's futile escape attempt. "My intentions _had _been totally harmless. But now…" His tongue tickled Vincent's ear's contours, and Vincent involuntarily whimpered at the strange intimate feeling. He struggled, but Sephiroth had the upper hand, and Vincent stayed subdued.

Sephiroth kissed lines up and down Vincent's neck, and all Vincent could do was quiver and whisper, "Bastard."

Sephiroth looked Vincent in the eyes then. "Hmm… I might have to prove you right about that…" He brushed Vincent's hair away from his forehead, kissing the bit of skin just above his eyes that wasn't covered by the bandana. "But for now… make sure your sex-deprived notions have nothing to do with me, alright?" Then he released his hold on Vincent, and Vincent stumbled to regain his footing as Sephiroth moved toward the door.

Looking up, all Vincent really saw was Sephiroth's blood-covered arm that he himself personally shredded until Sephiroth closed the laboratory door, quarantining Vincent in. Vincent sighed despairingly, realizing that he really had no choice but to wait and see what the maniac would do. Ghosts would have been so much easier to handle than this.

* * *

_This is the only disclaimer the authoress will make on this story, because she thinks they're a silly waste of time and text. Everyone knows that she does not own anything important in the content, such as characters, song and movie titles, pop culture references, etc._

_And also, even though posting new chapters is my main concern, I'm always editing previous chapters as well, so don't hesitate to ask me to change any mistakes you notice. I'd be more than willing, as long as you're nice._


	2. A Deal with Death

(The next morning…)

A soft but demanding knock on the laboratory door jolted Vincent out of the doze he had found himself in. He had refused to sleep during the night, apprehensive of Sephiroth's sneaky behavior, and it had taken its toll on him. He also realized that Sephiroth had stolen his gun and locked him inside the room, and that made him nervous and jittery.

Now, as he yawned and tried to shake himself out of sleeping mode, the door opened and Sephiroth peeked his head in. His expression was unexpectedly warm despite his disposition toward Vincent last night. "Ready to cooperate with me yet?" he asked.

Vincent glared at him, his body tensing up unconsciously. "You took my gun."

Sephiroth snickered, gazing at Vincent the way a parent would at a child who had just finished serving their time out. "I'm surprised you didn't confront me about it earlier. But I suppose you were still recovering from being knocked unconscious. Meet me in the second-floor kitchen if you don't want to stay in _here_ for the rest of your life." Then he left, not bothering to close the door behind him as he walked off. Needless to say, Vincent was shocked at Sephiroth's immense amount of trust in him. It almost made the former general seem naive.

Shortly after that, Vincent decided that maybe it was in his best interests to do as Sephiroth said, because that would be the quickest way to get out of here. He meandered his way to the place that Sephiroth requested, still a bit on edge, looking quickly behind himself every time his ears played tricks on him. When he made it into the kitchen, he saw Sephiroth sitting at a table with his back turned to the doorway, reading a book. Figures.

"The cupboards are stock full with food," he began, not even turning around to meet Vincent's eyes. "I myself personally don't eat breakfast. Make yourself something if you're hungry."

Vincent bristled, even though the rumble in his empty stomach confirmed to him that he _was_ hungry. He had prided himself on being exceedingly quiet when coming here, and yet Sephiroth had immediately known when he showed up. Why was Sephiroth always a few steps ahead of him?

He looked at the place on Sephiroth's arm where his metal hand had assaulted. The wounds had completely healed, and not even a bit of discolored skin was present to indicate that there had been any injury. Vincent grimaced unhappily. The man really was a freak of nature. If he could even be called a man anymore.

Instead of preparing a meal as Sephiroth had suggested, Vincent went to and sat in the chair across from Sephiroth's, not stopping to wonder why an abandoned, dilapidated manor had a good stock of fresh food. Sephiroth still didn't react to his presence, and so they sat in silence for quite awhile, Vincent just staring at Sephiroth's down-turned eyes as Sephiroth read.

For a moment, Vincent let his mind wander as his gaze danced across the finer features of Sephiroth's face. Despite his extremely muscular form, Vincent realized that with a pair of square-ish glasses perched on his nose, and his hair pulled back from his shoulders, Sephiroth could easily look like a totally different – and decidedly more peaceful – person.

A page turned. Then another. Then Sephiroth finally tore his eyes away from his book to square Vincent's stare. "Are you going to say something, or just keep silently admiring me?" he cooed, puffing his lips out sarcastically as a flirtatious woman would do.

Vincent snorted in disgust, sitting a bit farther back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Don't flatter yourself. I just want to know what you're so keen on me cooperating with you for. But, before you ask anything of _me, _answer me one question: How in hell's name did you come back from the dead this time, without some sort of avatar?"

Sephiroth closed his eyes and snapped his book shut dramatically with one hand. "Hell's got nothing to do with it," he whispered, then opened his eyes to meet Vincent's again. His strange tone of voice and cold gaze made Vincent's blood run cold. Then he sighed, placing his book onto the table neatly in front of him. He placed his elbows on the table, supporting his face in his hands.

"You don't know much about Death, do you?" Vincent raised an eyebrow at the odd question. Of course he didn't know much about death – no more than the average person, at least. Sephiroth smiled coolly. "I figured as much. Then you probably would find it queer if I told you that Death has a personality. It's not just a cold element, as everyone thinks – but an actual mind, capable of thinking and feeling just as profoundly as any human might. Even more so, I'm sure."

Vincent just sat there, listening, unsure of how to react or respond. Where was this going?

"With all that morbid power Death has, though, it is still extremely jealous of souls like ours," Sephiroth continued, the smile fading from his lips. "And you want to know why? Every person on the planet, or every person I'm aware of, at least, has loved someone or something in their lifetimes. Even if they don't realize it, they always have an earthly attachment of some kind. Whether it's for a family member, partner, pet, location, feeling, or possession, they've loved it. Death has never loved at all. That's why it's jealous."

Vincent just blinked. Sephiroth did the same. "Absurd, I know. But it gets worse. You see, after Cloud dispatched me, and I came into contact with Death for the first time, we realized that we had much more in common than we expected. But, most importantly, Death didn't resent me as it did everyone else, because I was the only human it had ever come into contact with that has never, _truly, _loved."

Vincent's jaw slacked without his knowledge. "You can't be serious."

"Recall what you know about my life, Mr. Valentine," Sephiroth mumbled in deprecation, venom in his words. "Does the idea really surprise you?"

Vincent's gaze faltered, then trailed down to rest on a bit of table in front of him. No, it didn't.

"Of course, it's impossible for someone like you to imagine, but for me, it's common fact. Anyway, after a little while of knowing me, Death saw an opportunity too promising to pass up. Going against its higher powers, it struck a bargain with me, and I accepted without qualms.

"I would be able to come back from the dead, with the body and presence I had before my death. And in return, Death would be able to experience a human life through me, feeling what I feel. I would be given a set time in the living realm, and if I was able to fall in love truly and unrelentingly by my deadline, then Death would sever all ties with me and I'd be able to live out an ordinary second life. But, if I failed, then I would never be able to return to the realm of the living, or to even come into contact with any soul still alive."

Vincent smirked, recrossing his arms. Some time during Sephiroth's story, he had unconsciously released that stance. "How very fairy tale-esque."

Sephiroth nodded, closing his eyes. "Yes. And so very hard to believe."

"But what has all that got to do with me?"

Sephiroth's ill-weathered smile returned, but he did not open his eyes. "Being alive when you're not supposed to be has its penalties, you know. I'm even more a monstrosity to the natural world than I was before. Sunlight burns my skin as if I'm a vampire of ancient folklore, and a bathtub full of water boils over and froths like an angry ocean the moment my body touches it."

His eyes opened then, and his gaze now held a peculiar, wistful quality that Vincent hadn't been anticipating. "I'm running out of time. I need someone to help me with the more grueling, daytime details of finding a lover. It's harder for me than I had believed it to be. If you agree to help me, then I'll let you go free as a bird as long as you tell no one about my current state of life."

Vincent's smirk had vanished. "And if I refuse?"

Sephiroth then gained the smirk that Vincent had lost. "Then I'll pick up where I left off last night, and you'll be so ashamed that your pride won't let you tell Cloud about me."

Vincent sighed, trying to keep the thought out of his head that kept telling him to go through with this bullshit. No, he _didn't_ have anything better to do, but he didn't want that to be the logical reason for helping Lucrecia's son.

Lucrecia. That was right. Sephiroth was the last living remnant of Lucrecia, and he did have so many features similar to hers. Why didn't he do this? It might give him a chance to feel a little of that old happiness he had long since lost.

'And besides,' he thought with a tiny smile. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. 'This seemingly childish game of matchmaker might be fun.'

"How much time have you got left?" he asked, making Sephiroth laugh softly.

"Two weeks and six days."

Vincent sighed. If nothing else, this would be time-consuming. Sephiroth held out a hand. "Agreed?"

His hand met Sephiroth's. He couldn't believe he was doing this. "Agreed."


	3. Making a Friend Out of an Enemy

(Later that day…)

After Vincent had complied with Sephiroth's terms, and considered himself a total and complete moron for doing so, Sephiroth had smiled and experienced a total change in demeanor. It really surprised Vincent how jovial he became. It was almost flattering. Had Sephiroth really been alone all this time? How long _had _he been here alone?

He kept that question in mind when Sephiroth told him of all the trouble he had gone through already, having to disguise himself when he went out every night. He hadn't done anything too drastic, hating the fact that he always seemed suspicious to others. If he was discovered, Holy only knows what kind of hell would be raised.

He had also met several prospect lovers, he said, but all of them had not lived up to his expectations within the end of the first date. He had grown weary, and Vincent would be hired as his day-time help. Vincent's ears perked at that.

"Hired? You're giving me money?" he asked, repeating the statement to make sure he heard right.

Sephiroth smirked, taking advantage of the basic human greed Vincent had in him. He nodded. "If you help me, then by the end of these weeks, I'll give you five hundred gil for your trouble."

Vincent blinked, open-mouthed, then beamed widely. Rufus wasn't going to give him anything. "I thought you were just taking me hostage and forcing me to help you."

Sephiroth shook his head lightly. "No. I'm keeping you here regardless, but it's only when you cooperate that you get the money." Then his eyes went cold. "And that's only _if _I'm alive to give it to you."

Vincent mirrored the look. "You know that hiring me will have nothing to do with how quickly you fall in love."

Sephiroth smiled again. "No, but hopefully that will motivate you into finding as many eligible partners possible, which is more opportunities for love."

Vincent smiled too. "Good point." The question had been burning for too long now; it was then that he asked it. "So… how long _have _you been alive this time?"

Sephiroth looked down at the floor, pensive. "Hmm… I'd say a little over two months."

An eyebrow raised on Vincent's face. "Death only gave you three months to find love?"

"Remember: Death knows as little about love as I do."

"Right."

"And that was probably the maximum amount of time it felt safe to give me, going against its higher powers like I said before."

Vincent was silent, trying to think of a good place to start this search. Search. Internet. Dating Sites. Eureka! "Are there any old computers in this place?" he asked.

Sephiroth blinked. "Probably. I'm guessing that Rufus has had a laptop ever since before he was even able to say 'computer.'"

A small search was conducted, and sure enough, they found a dusty computer that hadn't been destroyed, even though the mansion had been through so much. Vincent flipped it open, turned it on, and connected it to the internet, all with Sephiroth monitoring him over his shoulder. Vincent had tried staying away from high-tech computers most of his life, but he knew enough of them to get agitated when the home page took around half a minute or so to load up.

"Dial-up. This thing _really is _archaic," he huffed. Nowadays, the internet would work for you in less time than it took you to think, 'Hey, I want to get online!'

"What are you looking up, anyway?" Sephiroth mumbled in question.

"What better place to find desperate singles than the internet?" Vincent replied with a snicker.

Sephiroth faked a gasp, acting offended as Vincent saw him place a hand upon his chest. "I resent that. You're planning to put me on one of those half-assed dating sites, aren't you? They're so untrustworthy. And do you realize _how many _there are out there?"

"I'm just surprised that you haven't already tried this," Vincent retorted. "For someone wanting love so badly, your search either hasn't been very thorough, or hasn't been very heart-felt."

"I'm trying to stay local, thank you very much. And I never thought that I'd have to stoop this low."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Vincent muttered, making an effort to sound self-righteous. What was it about being around this man that made him want to be so damned sarcastic? He normally wasn't so verbal. Maybe it was just the irony of the fact that he was now rooming with an old enemy.

"Where do you want to put yourself first?" he asked then, getting back to the task at hand. "Eharmony's got the best compatibility tests, but Match dot com's got Dr. Phil."

"Even after all this time? Isn't it about time that they put that old geezer down before he makes a serious mistake?" Then Sephiroth leaned in closer, his hair brushing against Vincent's arm. "And besides – they have much more custom sites than those. I'm sure we can find one that fits more of my style."

"How about this?" Vincent asked, typing a few words into the search engine bar. Dating sites for evil, ugly men.

Sephiroth didn't say anything for a moment after reading the text. Then he turned to Vincent, who had an impressive smirk on his face. "I don't find your brand of humor very endearing."

Vincent pretended to be shocked and hurt. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I was being perfectly sincere."

"Well, two can play at that game," Sephiroth said, taking the computer from Vincent's hands and typing in something himself, then turning the screen back toward Vincent's eyes. Dating sites for virginal senior citizens was what it read.

"Touché."

So, they eventually settled on a local, somewhat promising-looking website, aptly named Midgar Socials and Socialettes. And after a bit more arguing, they submitted Sephiroth's ideal profile without being too revealing of his identity. Vincent was mighty proud of himself.

As they waited for results and, hopefully finds, Vincent made them both lunch, and they ate at the table in perfect silence. It seemed that they couldn't be familiar with each other yet unless there was some sort of outside force that was easy to argue over.

Then, after they finished eating, they logged back into the computer to find that Sephiroth had matched with twenty-three hopeful singles. "It's only been half an hour," Vincent exclaimed, shocked at such quick results.

Sephiroth shrugged. "What can I say? I'm likable."

Vincent rolled his eyes, clicking onto the first woman's page. "I think you may need a second opinion on that." She was a lovely brunette, with denim blue eyes and a rather skinny form. Not Vincent's type, but pretty nonetheless. "Well? What do you think?"

Sephiroth hadn't even looked at it for a full minute before saying, "No thank you."

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's anorexic-looking," he said. "I'll break her in half if we ever try to have sex. _And _she works in a salon as a manicurist? If I wanted a Barbie, I'd go out and buy one."

"What if she has a wonderful personality? Have you always been this close-minded?" Vincent chided.

Sephiroth stared into Vincent's eyes, an eyebrow raised and a condescending leer present. "Have you _always _had such heavy bags under your eyes? Her profile said that her favorite movie was Glitter and that she has always wanted a man that her father hates, just so she could prove Romeo and Juliet wrong. She's _not _my type, okay?"

Vincent sighed, shook his head, and moved on. After nineteen more of "no", two of "keep that one in mind for later", and one of "you've got to be kidding me, right", Vincent pushed the laptop away from him and placed his head onto the table.

"No wonder you're loveless – you're impossible to please!"

Sephiroth crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "I can't help it if I'm picky. The only people I've ever dated have been good for physical purposes, and nothing more. I'm not entirely sure what I'm looking for in love, but I know a red flag when I see it, and all of those women were red flags."

Vincent placed his cheek upon the wood where his forehead had been, eyeing Sephiroth with despondency. "So, what now?"

Sephiroth opened his eyes then, not looking at Vincent but at the computer screen. "Maybe a woman's not for me. Is there a way to advertise me to men as well?"

Vincent raised his head off of the table then, unsure he understood. "You mean… a homosexual profile?"

Sephiroth rolled his eyes slightly. "Yes, to put it ineloquently."

Vincent stared in disbelief for a moment or so, then turned back to the screen. "Well, yes… All I have to do is change the part on your original profile under looking for: from woman to man." And he did, submitting the new ad in a strange, awkward silence.

"Does that surprise you?"

Vincent hesitated before looking him in the eyes. "I just… never knew you were bisexual."

Sephiroth grinned. "I'm not. I'm gender-apathetic. Men can be just as attractive to me as women." Then he came a bit closer and placed a hand lightly upon Vincent's shoulder, reveling in how stiff Vincent became. "I thought I proved that to you already," he mumbled tauntingly.

Vincent removed the hand as nonchalantly as he could. "I thought you were just trying to scare me."

"Are you homophobic?"

"Not particularly."

Sephiroth shook his head, still smiling. "No, I've slept with both women _and _men. I'm always the dominant anyway, so it's not that drastic of a difference. The only steady contrast I've seen is the variance of pitch in their voices and where their extra lumps of flesh are placed." He made a clutching gesture toward his chest and then toward his crotch.

It was amazing how contradictory this man's personality was. He could act so superior while doing something exceedingly vulgar. But he made Vincent laugh, and Vincent had to admit that he hadn't felt this light-hearted in a long while. Even their bickering was the type of bickering… that a couple of friends would make.

"You definitely got around, didn't you?" he asked, suddenly solemn. Friends? With Sephiroth? That was the last thing he ever expected himself to become.

Sephiroth's disposition changed too, the sarcasm gone. "Someone with a lot of pent-up aggression will try to release it in any form they can."

Vincent wasn't smiling. "So, when exactly did that release change from having sex with people to killing people?"

Sephiroth's face contorted into an emotion Vincent hadn't seen on his face before, and turned away. Had Vincent actually hurt his feelings? Was that possible to do? "I'll admit," he began, "that when I first found out about Jenova, I voluntarily took a lot of innocent lives during the Nibelheim Fire. But something I didn't know about myself that I do now is that, whenever I become angry, the Jenova in my body flows through my veins more actively than before.

"Jenova cells are like a super-intelligent virus; they take hold of the brain as well as the body, and they attack any inactive or vulnerable parts of the brain." Sephiroth wrapped himself in his own arms now, seeming to need the comfort. "The angrier I became, the more I could feel my control of my mind deteriorating. And yet, I was in such a rage that I did nothing to slow it down, and when I abducted Jenova's head, I was powerless to stop her when she took control of me."

Vincent just listened, watching the back of Sephiroth's head. Sephiroth's voice had changed exponentially, and Vincent began to regret what he had said. He didn't really like to see anyone suffer, even if he didn't particularly like the former general. "You're not calling her 'Mother' like you always used to."

Sephiroth turned back to face him again. His eyes were frustrated and hateful, but not angry. "Why would I?" he asked with disdain, allowing his arms to fall free-swinging to his sides. "Jenova is a parasite that thinks only of herself and not of her host. She knew what she wanted, and she made me do her bidding. I was still perfectly aware of everything around me, but incapable of changing what I said or did. It was like finally being possessed by a demon you had living inside of you all of your life."

He sighed, going to the table and sitting in the chair next to Vincent's. "I watched myself kill a beautiful young woman that I had no personal grudge against, all because Jenova thought her a threat to the cause." Then he smiled unhappily. "Don't get me wrong - I still hate Cloud, but that's because of simple personality conflicts between us."

"So…" Vincent mumbled, "It was never _you _who did all those things – but Jenova herself?"

Sephiroth nodded. "She put everyone through all that; she made everyone hate me, and when Cloud killed me in the end, she didn't have enough decency to keep me from feeling all the pain the fighting caused."

"But… what about Kadaj?"

"Kadaj was a mutated version of one of my clones, under Jenova's control from the beginning of his life. He knew nothing of the life he could have had." Sephiroth reclined as much as possible into his chair, looking up at the ceiling, becoming quite emotionless. "The only reason I can figure that he took the form of _me _when he grasped Jenova's head was that I was the only human form Jenova truly knew to be powerful."

Vincent looked down at the table, failing to notice the eleven responses to Sephiroth's new profile. If what Sephiroth said was true, then he would have to change his whole outlook on the man's life.

"And now look at me." Vincent raised his gaze at Sephiroth's unexpected speech. He was examining his own hands, which were propped up on the table in front of him. "I'm trying to escape Death on my own, and I'm failing. I can't go for a swim or even feel the warmth of the sun on my back."

"What – _does _happen if the sun touches you?" Vincent asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

Sephiroth met his gaze then, smiling again, with just as little happiness as last time. Then his hands went under the table, and by a bit of movement and the removal of a sock, he hoisted his left foot onto the table surface, and Vincent saw what there was to be seen.

A patch on the top of the foot had been crisped completely black, the toes without at least eighty percent of the flesh that should have surrounded their bones. Vincent grimaced, innately taking hold of the wrist on his metal glove with his human hand.

"A bit of prolonged exposure, and my whole body would look this way," Sephiroth whispered, placing his foot back upon the floor. "That's why I have to keep it so dark in here."

Vincent looked around the room at that. It was true – this was one of the windowless rooms, and the only light was artificial. "I hadn't really noticed before."

"People with built-in night vision as defined as ours don't need such drastic measures in light."

There was silence after that. Very, very _awkward _silence. It seemed that the moment they had taken their attentions away from the computer, they had both become miserable. So Vincent brought the computer back to attention. "Do you want to look at your responses? You have seventeen of them now."

Sephiroth stood. "No. What time is it?"

Vincent looked into the corner of the screen, shocked at the time. Was it really that late? "11:04 pm."

Sephiroth ran a hand through his hair. "I'm exhausted. Your bedroom is on this floor; I'm going up to mine on the third."

Vincent guffawed at his premature retiring. "But this is the only time of day you can go outside! Why would you want to sleep now?"

Sephiroth yawned, his lips curling back from his pearly teeth much like the way an animal yawned. "For the past month and a half, I've become accustomed to a nocturnal living pattern. You coming here has put quite a strain on me. But I suppose I'll have to get used to staying up as much as possible now." And he headed for the doorway.

Vincent followed him with his eyes. "You _do _realize that I could leave here at first light and never come back, and there would be nothing you could do to stop me."

Sephiroth paused at the doorway, his hand on the siding, and turned his head and looked at Vincent. The playfulness was back in those green eyes. "Yes. But _you _realize that if you do, then I'll use the rest of my time here to hunt you down and do things to you that you haven't even experienced in your worst nightmares."

Vincent glowered at him then, and Sephiroth smiled his first happy smile in several minutes. "Keep a sharp eye, and sleep on your back. Who knows what kind of pleasures I may seek during the night?"

"Only use body parts you'd be willing to lose, friend," Vincent replied. Sephiroth seemed satisfied with that answer, walking away and leaving Vincent alone with the computer and his own thoughts. He had just called Sephiroth 'friend'. And on purpose, too. Was it possible to make a new friend out of an old enemy? Because it seemed that that was exactly what he was doing. 


	4. Vincent the Errand Boy

(Two weeks, five days until deadline…)

Following his first complete day with Sephiroth, Vincent awoke in more of a lethargy than he had experienced in months. The fact that he had gotten no sleep that first night only made matters worse, and the soft, comforting bed that Sephiroth assigned seemed to rest him too much. He felt that he needed to lie here for a couple more hours just to recover.

But he didn't like leaving himself defenseless for that long a period of time, especially since he was in a very large, secretive house with a homicidal psychopath.

He rolled onto his left side. That wasn't exactly comfortable, so he tried the right side. Still unsatisfied, he turned onto his back and sluggishly sat up, the silken sheets sliding pompously from his movements with a _swish._ His eyes were closed, and his fingers were massaging his temples, as he tried desperately to bring himself a little more out of unconsciousness and into reality.

But when he opened his eyes and looked up from his lap, he jumped in shock, then gave an exasperated sigh, hating being caught off guard. "How long have you been sitting there?"

Sephiroth didn't even bother looking up from the crossword puzzle book in _his_ lap, pen in hand. "About three hours or so. I had to make sure you were still here, and I had no idea how long you were planning on sleeping. Precautionary measures had to be taken."

"And that means watching me while I sleep?"

"I wasn't watching you," he replied indignantly. "I have plenty of things to do." Then he lost himself in his puzzle. "A twelve letter word for one prone to motor skills while sleeping…" He glanced up at Vincent's drowsy face, grinning, then back down at the book. "Somnambulist."

Too exhausted to wonder exactly why he was being grinned at, Vincent flopped again onto his back, grumbling irritably to himself. "So what are your brilliant plans for today's schedule?"

Sephiroth frowned, again without looking into Vincent's eyes, so Vincent didn't quite know whether Sephiroth was actually frowning at _him_ or not. "Plans? I have no plans. I'm too spontaneous of a person for that sort of thing."

"That makes sense."

"Although, of course, we should probably scan through the responses on that godforsaken dating profile. Just to make sure if any of those boys are worth my time."

"I doubt it."

"Would it kill you to be optimistic? "

"I'm not sure. I've never tried."

Sephiroth sighed, finally prompted to ignore his crossword and look at Vincent's face. "I've also thought of a favor you could do for me."

Vincent raised his head at that. "What kind of favor?"

"I need a disguise," Sephiroth said. "A proper one. Hair and eye color are my main worries, but every time I've attempted to buy such modifiers as dye or contacts, the shops that sell them have closed shortly after dark. I need you to go during their open hours for me."

Vincent stared at him. "You do realize," he began, trying to describe to Sephiroth the gravity of what he suggested, "that that means I'll have to leave this house without your supervision. You're going to have to trust me."

Sephiroth sighed again, more sardonically this time, replying, "Yes, I know."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Not really. But it needs to be done."

Vincent chortled softly to himself, feeling refreshed now that he could get out of this damned manor for some time to himself. It also gave him a bit of an advantage over Sephiroth, because the younger man wouldn't be able to help but wonder if he'd actually come back or not. Of course, he _would_ – he was a man of his word, but Sephiroth didn't need to know that.

He pushed himself up to a seated position again, stretched his arms out in front of him, fingers interlocked, and gave a small yawn. Sephiroth watched, his expression one of reserve. Their eyes locked momentarily, and Vincent felt a sense of triumph at how much Sephiroth was trying to compose himself and hide his paranoia.

He shifted his legs over the right side of the bed and stood, his brass-plated boots meeting the wooden floor with an unnatural clank. Running his clawed glove through his ebony bangs and pulling them from his eyes, he said, "I suppose I should perform said favor as soon as possible?"

Sephiroth glared at him with a sense of death. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"And you wouldn't," Vincent replied almost emotionlessly.

Sephiroth stood from his chair, a cushiony seat to the diagonal right of the foot of the bed, near the door. To the left of the room was an impressively large, old fashioned fireplace, and even though it seemed out of place in the scantily decorated bedroom, it made sense considering how frigid winter nights became in Nibelheim.

Vincent strode up to him, the dominance-concerned, alpha male tension too thick to cut with a knife. Sephiroth pretended to ignore it, though, rifling through his crossword puzzle book until he found the desired page, where he acquired one hundred Gil and handed it to Vincent. He must have placed the money there in anticipation of Vincent's behavior.

"This is for any expenses your venture might cause," he said.

Vincent readily accepted the token, examining Sephiroth's gaze before laughing inwardly. "You know," he prodded, "for such a spontaneous person, you're always prepared."

Sephiroth smiled, saying nothing. Vincent then moved for the door, on guard since Sephiroth was following so close behind. They made their way to the master staircase adjoining the first and second floors, in perfect silence, until Sephiroth spoke again. "Oh, I almost forgot."

Vincent turned, expectant. Sephiroth was holding out his cellular phone. "You'll be needing this," he said.

Vincent took it, forgetting himself that he had even had it taken away. He wasn't particularly attached to it. "Thank you…"

"I've already programmed this mansion's number into your phone and uploaded your SIM card onto the computer, so I shouldn't need it for anything else."

Vincent clasped the phone tighter. "You did what?"

Sephiroth crossed his arms. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know that your phone has a GPS system; I'm not going to let you off that easily. And I didn't put my name on the number, but you'll still know it's me."

Vincent looked down at the little piece of technology. It told him that it was forty-seven minutes past noon.

"If you don't come back before sun-down, then you're smart enough to know that I'm coming after you."

Vincent nodded, pocketing the phone and beginning to travel down the stairs. Sephiroth did not follow this time. When Vincent reached the large, double front doors, he turned to see the silver-haired man still at the top of the staircase, the wistful look Vincent had seen the previous day back in those green eyes. "Sephiroth," he voiced, catching Sephiroth out of whatever daze he had found himself in. When their gazes met, Vincent bowed his head in certitude. "You can trust me," he said, raising his head once again.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, then smiled and returned the gesture, obviously surprised at Vincent's cooperative nature. "As you can me," he replied, and turned his back to disappear down the hall out of sight.

Vincent turned to the doors then, opening the right to be momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight. As he made his way out of the mansion and closed the door behind him, he shielded his eyes until they could adjust to the drastic difference in light.

Octobers in Nibelheim were truly beautiful; since it was rebuilt after Sephiroth's fire, the citizens demanded that their new homes were not only nonflammable, but aesthetically pleasing too. That way, instead of turning it into the industrial wasteland the government had wanted to create, the town became an ideal spot for tourists who would rather relax on their vacation. New trees had begun to flourish as well, and the reddening leaves speckling the ground seemed to emit a promise of rejuvenation.

The air hadn't grown cold yet, either, so it was a wonderfully peaceful day. As Vincent moved down the outside steps, he thought about Sephiroth not being able to enjoy the diurnal bliss. It was saddening.

But knowing that he shouldn't dwell too long, he went over in his mind all the things he should pick up in order to make an altered Sephiroth look believable. Contacts were a must. And hair dye. He didn't really have any experience buying either of those. He sighed to himself. At least clothing wasn't a problem – Vincent hadn't seen Sephiroth wear his old uniform since he had been there. He seemed to prefer denim jeans and long-sleeved, cotton button-up shirts.

Putting his hands into his pockets, he began walking toward the shopping area of the town. It was quite a walk, considering that everyone in town had wanted their buildings and homes as far away from that accursed mansion as possible.

(Later, in the supermarket…)

Vincent's jaw dropped. When he had asked the kind employee where the hair dye was, she directed him toward a wall that had more colors, tints and shades than a Crayola crayon box. He felt helpless, because he had absolutely _no idea_ what color would look natural in place of what Sephiroth already had. He put his head in his hand. A woman would be so much better at this sort of thing.

"You look like you could use some help."

Looking toward the source of the noise, he saw a young woman with amethyst eyes, golden hair and a large, circular lip ring. Amazed at the convenience, he nodded. She smiled, placing her hand on her hip. "What can I do you for?"

He looked up again at the horrendous wall. "I need something… that's good at covering grey hairs, without looking too obvious." He couldn't exactly say 'silver.' Not many normal people were graced with such an abnormal hair color.

She giggled. "Your old man trying to look young again?"

"More or less," he replied, hoping he wasn't sounding too enigmatic. That could give his cause away just as easily as being loose-lipped would.

"What color eyes does he have?"

Vincent hesitated. Would he get contacts for Sephiroth that completely change his main eye color? No – it didn't seem right to think of Sephiroth's eyes as anything but green. "Green," he said.

"Well then," she began, reaching out in front of him and grabbing a seemingly inconspicuous box of lightish brown dye, "I've always found that tawny works wonders for getting rid of those unruly greys."

He examined the box. It looked harmless enough. "Thanks."

"Need anything else?"

He wouldn't tell her he was looking for colored contacts too. He thought it would make him seem suspicious. "No."

"Well, alrighty," she said cheerily, turning on her heel and prancing to go be a good Samaritan for someone else. For a moment, he contemplated what it would be like for _her _to be with Sephiroth. A strangely akin image to Yuffie skidded through his mind. He shuddered, shooing those thoughts away, grabbing three more boxes of the desired color to put in his bag, (after-all, Sephiroth had _a lot _of hair,) and heading for the eyewear part of the market.

"Excuse me," he said to the woman sorting out the sample eyeglasses, making her turn. "I was wondering if you'd be able to help me with buying non-prescription, colored contacts."

"Sure thing," she replied with a small smile, setting down what she was messing with and leading him over to another display table. "What kind of color are you looking for?"

"Uh… Something of a darker green, I think."

She blinked, seemingly shocked that he would choose that particular color. "Are you sure that that'd be compatible with your natural eye color?"

"Oh, no," he chuckled, trying to clear everything up, "these aren't for me. They're for a friend of mine."

"Oh," she said, regaining her gracious smile. "I understand. Someone with beautiful eyes like yours wouldn't need contacts anyway." He lowered his head, embarrassed. He and flattery didn't mix well. And what she said made him feel hypocritical, because if there was any man with beautiful eyes, it was who he was buying these things for.

"What shade of green is your friend looking for?"

He raised his head again, deciding to get momentarily risky. "Well, to be honest," he began, "my friend is an ex-SOLDIER recruit, and since everything that's gone wrong with Shinra has died down, he doesn't want to look like a SOLDIER anymore. Do you have something that covers up that mako gleam?"

She nodded. "Sure do. You would not believe how many requests we got for these when Shinra started to go down the tubes. Guess Shinra screwed up more lives than we think, huh?" She handed him a small box. "That should tide him over for a little while. There are three pairs of emerald green contacts in there, so there's no worries if one of them gets lost or anything like that."

He nodded, putting those in his bag as well. "Thank you." He had already deducted that this girl wasn't right for Sephiroth either, because she looked uncannily like one of the girls he had rejected on Midgar Socials and Socialettes.

For a moment as he left, he wonderingly glanced at all the glasses. If the contacts and hair dye didn't prove enough, then he'd buy something else. That's what he decided to himself when a blaring sound matched with a vibration in his pocket made him start.

The ring tone on his phone was different from the usual one, seeming to be made up of a very foreboding instrumental orchestra and some Latin chanting. "_Estuans, interius, ira vehementi. Estuans, interius, ira vehementi_."

He fumbled with grabbing the phone out of his pocket. It said that Beelzebub was calling. He eyed the phone wearily, but when it shrieked out, "_Sephiroth"_, he hurriedly flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear. "Hello, Satan," he mumbled.

Sephiroth laughed on the other line. "What do you think of your new ring tone? I found it last night on the net. I never would have imagined that they'd make a song as an homage to how awful I was."

"Well," Vincent retorted, "I hope you can take pleasure in the fact that you caused a lot of people to give me unneeded stares." He was certainly right about that; people apparently felt the need to gawk for long periods of time at a man who Yuffie had once called vampiric speaking to the devil on a Latin-belching cellular phone.

"Have you got the supplies?"

"Yes. And extra change to boot."

"Good. Why don't you buy yourself some lunch? You've earned it." And he hung up.

Vincent flipped the phone shut and stared at it for a few moments. 3:13. He still had plenty of time before sundown to do as he pleased. But, since he couldn't think of anything he particularly wanted to do, buying himself lunch sounded nice.

(Later, outside the Nibelheim Mansion…)

Vincent was tired. He had spent five hours in town, around many people. And, being the antisocial person that he was, it was always wearing when he had to face other people.

Sephiroth hadn't called him since the Satan conversation, so he had freely eaten lunch by himself, as he pleased. Although that was trying in itself, because there was this small group of girls two tables down from him that kept giggling amongst itself and staring at him. It was sort of hard concentrating on his food.

Then he had hauled himself back to the mansion with his groceries in hand, the sky dimming behind him. When he opened and closed the manor door, now inside, he called out Sephiroth's name, and heard no response. Intrigued, he journeyed up the first staircase to the second floor, and, traveling down the main hallway, he found Sephiroth sprawled on a small couch in a room with a rather large television, fast asleep with the laptop open on his stomach.

Vincent hadn't expected him to be in this sort of position when he returned. The man looked so peaceful, and it appeared that this little bit of rest was much needed. In that moment he could feel his heart soften just a little for the one he now considered to be his friend.

He removed the computer gingerly from the former general's stomach, flipped it closed and set it on the small coffee table adjacent to the couch. He set his grocery bag on that table also, turning with a sigh to the big, black television screen. It was still amazingly hard to believe how quickly his life had turned in another direction. And even harder to believe how willingly he had let it turn this way. He supposed all he needed was a little more excitement in his life, and that's what he was experiencing now.

"When'd you get back?"

Vincent turned in surprise and saw Sephiroth's drooping eyes opened and resting on him. He seemed to have trouble focusing, though. What a light sleeper.

"A few minutes ago," he replied nonchalantly. Then he felt like having a little fun with the sleepy man. "You shouldn't leave yourself so vulnerable like that. Someone with an ill will could sneak up on you."

Sephiroth huffed a breath through his nostrils, laying his head back and closing his eyes again. "I told you I was exhausted. I can't do anything useful in this state."

"Then sleep," Vincent said. "But tomorrow I expect you to be fully awake and ready for anything. We're going to go out on the town; we need to find you a date."

"So tomorrow I get the make-over from hell?" he mumbled.

Vincent chuckled. "Exactly."

* * *

_I might not be able to update for awhile, considering that school's starting tomorrow and I'm probably going to be exhausted. I'll try my hardest to finish, though, because I love this story and I hope you love it too, and I know it sucks to wait._

_I'd like to apologize for any grotesque OOC-ness. I portray the characters the way I think they'd act if they actually showed that they had human emotion, unlike the usual stoic personalities Squenix give us._

_Also, there's going to be some shameless self-gratification in the next chap. Nothing too graphic, but if you're not into that sort of thing, then stop reading now. The sexuality's only going to get worse from here - that's why it's rated M._


	5. He's Got the Look

(Two weeks, four days until deadline…)

Vincent awoke from a dreamless sleep that morning, finding himself fully alone in his room at last. And either that meant that Sephiroth finally accredited him not to up and leave, or that Sephiroth was just too tired and lazy to check up on him.

He swung himself out of bed, standing and stretching his arms high over his head. And, after bitterly attempting to _make_ his bed (he had grown out of the habit shortly after sentencing himself to that horrific coffin), he gave up and silently shuffled his way toward the kitchen. He made himself coffee, his mind and body feeling quite disconnected and numb. He found the beans by chance in the top shelf of the refrigerator door, and proceeded to grind them himself with the small grinder next to the coffee pot.

'I guess pre-ground coffee in a can is too tasteless for someone like Sephiroth,' he thought in annoyance to himself as he added all the necessities and started the maker, waiting. 'He still must be asleep.'

Then, when the coffee was made and ready to drink, he poured himself a cup and switched the maker off. He preferred his coffee black, so he didn't need to bother trying to scrounge about for any additives.

Steadying his mug in hand, he walked lethargically to the room he had seen Sephiroth last, but when he looked in the doorway, both the sleeping form and the computer from the night before were gone. He sighed.

Sephiroth had said that his room was on the third floor, right? He really shouldn't intrude. He sipped at the hot, dark liquid, almost scalding the sensitive skin of his lips and tongue, but being just cool enough to feel not totally unpleasant as it slid down his throat. He felt heated afterwards, and also a bit more daring.

He had been itching to thoroughly explore the upper floor, and he felt he had the right to look in on Sephiroth's snooze as a slight payback for interrupted privacy. Most of his knowledge of this house came from the basement floors anyway, places he didn't really feel like returning to any time soon; some of his worst nightmares had come to life down there.

So he trudged up the second set of stairs, keeping silent despite his clunking, obtrusive metal shoes. The third floor hall was almost identical at first glance to the second, the similar pitiless white paint unfolding onto similar ominous dark doorways.

But there was one distinct difference. Three doors to the left of the staircase, there was a soft, wavering, rosy light, pouring from the only open room, as if it was blushing and apprehensive that the rest of the house would see.

He entered the room in wonderment, but stopped short, almost speechless in shock. As opposed to the emotionless rooms Vincent had seen thus far, everything in this place was immersed in a terrific nostalgia. The walls were caked in newspaper clippings, old photos, and what seemed to be files of Shinra activities and personnel printed from a computer mainframe.

On closer inspection, the headlines spoke of several things: of Midgar's pollution, of AVALANCHE, of Shinra monster infestations – but mostly, they spoke of the war against Sephiroth and Meteor, and Cloud and gang's efforts to stop him. Black-and-white picture after black-and-white picture displayed the blonde and silver-haired men, one clearly thought of as a hero and the other as a menace.

The light from before was emitted from a large lava lamp on the top of the bedside cabinet, since the one window in the room was boarded up and let no light shine through. The whole atmosphere eerily resembled that of a prison cell, but if Sephiroth chose to make it look that way, then that was his prerogative.

A tiny yet conspicuous groan sounded from the lump of sheets on the bed. Speak of the devil. Vincent hesitantly approached the lump, thinking that waking Sephiroth when he didn't want to wake might lead to something messy.

When he was close enough to peer down at the silhouette, a sleeping Sephiroth took it upon himself to kick most of the covers off his upper half, where they landed just below his hip. And what Vincent saw was enough bare skin to come to the conclusion that Sephiroth was one to sleep in the nude. Although he sneered at the thought, he knew that it wasn't surprising, considering Sephiroth's obnoxious, take-me-or-leave-me behavior.

He raised his coffee to his lips, staring past the man with his gaze moving upward, when he froze. On the wall, just above Sephiroth's bed, he spied Lucrecia's lovely face. He studied that spot more carefully, and found, to his surprise, a small collage of her pictures, personal studies, and what appeared to be Sephiroth's own handwritten notes all taped haphazardly together. It was a sort of shrine paying her homage.

Vincent looked down at Sephiroth again. No one had ever suspected that Sephiroth found out about his true birthing mother. And perhaps he never had while he was alive the first time, since a simple, crystallized human woman had nothing to do with Jenova's plans.

He pitied Sephiroth. This room was a clear indication that the man was a bit unstable, needing to surround himself in everything he knew as familiar, good _or_ bad. He was in no way truly evil, but Vincent could finally wrap his mind around the fact that maybe Sephiroth was being honest, and that he had really never experienced love of any kind before.

He glanced back at a photo of Lucrecia. It looked as if it had been stolen directly from a picture frame in the Crescent family household.

Inside, Vincent felt a dark pang of guilt in his stomach. The last time he had spoken to his love was in that cavern, reassuring her that her one and only son was dead and gone, and that she needn't worry about him hurting anyone else. It had been so difficult to lie to her, but he knew that she wouldn't be able to live with the truth.

Now, as he stood in this Holy-forsaken house, staring into her eyes, with his lie and her torture lying and breathing peacefully in front of him, all he could do was whisper, "I'm sorry."

There was a shout and some swift, unexpected movement, and before Vincent could react to what was happening, he was hoisted off of the ground by his throat, his coffee mug dropped and shattered on the floor, liquid seeping everywhere.

He clawed at the hand that was bruising his neck and squeezing his windpipe, then looked into its owner's eyes. Sephiroth looked angry and afraid, and a bit dazed from being woken in this manner. Then he blinked, seeming to recognize who exactly he was choking so fervently. "Vincent?"

Vincent gurgled in response, unable to make a coherent sound. Sephiroth lowered him quickly at that, releasing his hand to place it against his temple. Vincent was lightheaded, and it took all the effort he could muster up to keep from falling to his shaking knees.

"Dammit, Vincent," Sephiroth admonished, laying his head down back upon his pillow. "You should know better than to stand over a murderer when he's sleeping."

Vincent didn't reply, stooping down instead to pick up the broken, sticky pieces of China, staring at the soiled spot in the carpet with disdain. He supposed Sephiroth would expect him to clean it, even though the stain would probably never come out.

How many injuries had he sustained in his three days of being here? He felt his throat, flinching when his human fingers made contact with the tender parts. He heard Sephiroth sigh above him. When he raised his eyes, Sephiroth was also staring at the carpet, his head up and still in his hand. When their gazes met, Sephiroth's expression was blank, save for the stress-induced fire in those green eyes that he was desperately trying to quill.

Even though _he _was the marred one, Vincent involuntarily felt repentant. "Sorry about the mess," was all he managed to say.

"Sorry for almost killing you," Sephiroth retaliated, bitterness symbolizing how sorry he actually was.

Vincent scratched the back of his head in nervous habit. More awkward silence. He was beginning to _loathe _awkward silences.

"Was there something you wanted to speak to me about?"

Vincent fumbled for the right thing to say. "I… I couldn't sleep, so…"

"So you wanted to come in and see me because you had nothing else to do?"

Vincent took the defensive to disguise the fact that Sephiroth was right. "Excuse me. I was _actually _hoping we could get an early start on fixing your hair."

Sephiroth flopped onto his back again, pressing his palms against his eyes. "Ugh. We've got _hours._ I need more sleep than this. You completely screw up my sleeping hours."

Vincent sighed. "Yes, yes… I believe we already went over this. A month and a half, right? You got used to something and I changed it."

Sephiroth grunted a discontented response.

Vincent examined the man on the bed from his spot on the floor. "Sephiroth?"

"Hmm?"

"What _have _you been doing with yourself these past two months?"

Sephiroth took his hands away from his eyes. "Whaddya mean?"

"I know you haven't been doing _all you can _to find yourself a lover."

Sephiroth blew air from his lips the way a horse would. "Sit on the bed, please. I really don't want to have to talk to you while you're on the floor."

At first, Vincent was disinclined to accept Sephiroth's request. But, after ten seconds or so, he did, sitting himself lightly on the edge of the bed. Sephiroth politely moved himself over a smidge, giving Vincent more room.

"In response to your question, I've mostly been refurnishing this house to my liking. Now, don't misunderstand me – I _did_ go on all those dates I told you about. But this place was old, and run down, and if I was going to live here for a while, I wanted it to _be _livable."

Vincent became suspicious. "How did you acquire all this?"

"That's part of the reason why it took so long," he replied. "I purchased _most _of it from magazines in people's mail. The other things… well, let's just say I did whatever it took to make myself comfortable. And a lot of it I had to replace more than once… All those stupid teenagers kept running in and breaking things."

That reminded Vincent. "Did _you _kill that boy?"

Sephiroth bored into Vincent's eyes with his own. "That's why you're here, right? No - I didn't kill him. The little punk stormed in here in the wee hours of the morning, and in fear that I'd be discovered, I tried best as I could to scare him out without letting him see who I really was. But he was persistent, and before either of us really knew what happened, he found the 'ghost,' panicked, backed up over the railing of the third floor staircase, lost his balance, and fell to his death."

Vincent's brow furrowed. "But why did you leave him on the front steps? Didn't you realize that it would cause an uproar?"

Sephiroth stared at Vincent, scolding him for his naïveté. "Of course I did. But what other options did I have? The sun was rising _as _I tried disposing of him; there was no way I was going to keep a dead body in the house for a full day. That was actually how I obtained the scar on my foot you saw before"

Vincent nodded silently. The story seemed logical enough. "The way I see it, you're almost lucky that Rufus sent me instead of Cloud."

Sephiroth cackled at that idea. "Oh, that would have been fun. I'm not afraid of that kid. And I think he would have struggled much more than you did. You didn't put up that much of a fight."

Vincent disgustedly turned away for a moment.

"You know," Sephiroth murmured, seeming to suddenly become reminiscent, "I met Cloud a time or two early on, when he was still trying desperately to become a SOLDIER, and Zack was surpassing him as if it were a cakewalk."

"Yeah?" Vincent asked in reply, happy to fuel any topic for conversation that didn't have anything to do with taunting _him._

"Yeah," Sephiroth answered. "Thought he was gorgeous, too. A little sullen, but hey – no one's perfect, right? I'm about the closest humanity's ever come." Vincent rolled his eyes, but said nothing to the contrary, because he could tell from Sephiroth's voice that Sephiroth didn't believe those words himself. Sephiroth continued on.

"So many times I considered putting the boy through some 'unconventional tests,' to see if he was really worthy to serve under me." Vincent almost frowned outright at the double entendre. It was still difficult trying to adjust to being with someone so blatantly open about their sexuality.

"What made you hold back?"

He just blinked, his eyes dancing along the ceiling. "Well, shortly after making those considerations, I realized that he was, one – an almost _screaming _heterosexual, and two…" He coughed lightly. "…_Virgo intacta_."

Vincent paused on hearing those words, trying to rack his brain of the Latin he knew. "… An untouched virgin?"

Sephiroth smiled, confirming him with a point of two fingers, without meeting his gaze. "Bingo. Although I highly doubt he's that way anymore. He's far too pretty."

Vincent stared at him for a moment, thinking a bit off-subject. "I didn't know you speak Latin."

Their eyes locked then. "Oh yes. One of the more useless things professor Gast taught me during my actual book studies." He resumed his studying of the ceiling. "Needless to say, I readily preferred my dueling and self-defense lessons back then. But now I'm starting to gain more of an appreciation for such archaic things, considering I may become one."

He sighed. "Anyway, I digress. I am very happy to admit, though, that I was relieved I never pursued such interests with Cloud. Could you imagine how horrible it would have been for him to have to kill a past lover? I might have permanently scarred the boy."

Vincent couldn't help but silently shake with withheld laughter. He honestly didn't think Sephiroth could scar that boy anymore than he already had. Now, he had nothing against Cloud, but it was known far and wide that Cloud could occasionally prove that he wasn't a particularly likable character. But, to Vincent's amazement, it appeared Sephiroth _was_.

He then subsided, dwelling on the Latin again. "What's so wrong with virgins?" he asked Sephiroth's momentarily peaceful face, humor in his words.

Sephiroth yawned in his animalistic way, stretching his arms above him on the bedspread. "Oh, nothing, I suppose. I just tend to have this problem with feeling awkward about taking that virginity myself. I look for people with a bit more experience. And plus, I don't think I'm quite the type for a first lover."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

Sephiroth looked at him and smirked. "Well, most virgins want someone a bit gentle to take them for the first time. My lust usually comes in two stages, and gentleness is not the first. If I decide that I want you in my bed, then my first point of action comes from more of an 'I come, I see, I conquer' mindset. And then, after I get what I wanted from you, if I like you enough, then you see my softer side. I consider people that make it to that second stage either really skilled or really lucky."

Vincent's expression changed from laughter to something close to pity. "Don't you think that's sort of a harsh way of looking at things?"

Sephiroth's smirk dissipated and he turned his gaze away, as if disgusted with whatever he had seen in Vincent's eyes. "I don't really have any alternatives. A cold, isolated childhood and puberty with the Shinra staff has taught me never to let my guard down and to never let people come too close." Then the smirk returned, as he tried to lighten up the subject. "And besides: if I was everyone's first lover, then all of their standards would be far too high, and they'd never be satisfied again with anyone below me."

Vincent scrunched his nose at Sephiroth's stinky attempts to sound egomaniacal. He was sure that Sephiroth's pride _was_ a tad over-inflated, but it also seemed that Sephiroth didn't truly like himself as much as he led to believe. Then again, if it had really been Jenova using Sephiroth's voice to declare him the heir to the planet instead of Sephiroth himself, then maybe he and Sephiroth had more of a similar personal attitude than they realized. For a moment, he stared in silence at the man, wondering what made him tick.

"So, when did you lose yours?" Sephiroth asked suddenly, turning again to examine Vincent's face.

"Huh?" Vincent began, recovering from being bounced back into reality without warning. "Oh, you mean my virginity?"

Sephiroth became derisive for a moment. "No, your sense of fashion."

Vincent looked down at his clothes for a millisecond, then realized that Sephiroth was mocking him, and shot back with a wry look of his own. Then he went on to answer Sephiroth's question, the sarcasm put on hold. "My seventeenth birthday. That was my girlfriend's present to me."

Sephiroth chuckled, highly amused. "How romantic."

Vincent shook his head. "If it could be called that. Stacey didn't really have the capacity to be romantic."

"Not the one, huh?"

Vincent gave him a very dirty look, unappreciative of his tone. "Obviously. I sort of knew that I didn't love her all along, but when I caught her cheating on me with her calculus tutor, that was the final straw."

Sephiroth pantomimed a recovery from being stabbed in the chest. "Ouch. So I'm guessing you were one of those stereotypical, sensitive high school students attracted to the bitch reigning supreme?"

Vincent actually seemed to take that thought into consideration. "I wonder if _that_ was my problem. I never seemed to have much luck with romance back then, even though plenty of women were interested." But then he glanced quizzically into Sephiroth's eyes. "Why are _you _so interested? When was your virginity taken?"

Sephiroth shrugged, insouciant. "I think I was fourteen. It wasn't that memorable of an event."

Vincent's eyes widened; he was totally appalled. "You were only a freshman?!"

"Well, I _would _have been, if I was in high school. But the Shinra scientists were too worried at the prospect of not being able to monitor me every minute of every day, so they home-schooled me. I thought you knew that."

Vincent closed his eyes, shaking his head again. "You were so young."

"I started masturbating when I was eleven."

"_What?"_

Sephiroth grinned, his face and voice growing impish. "Well, the Shinra scientists were always extremely reluctant to answer my questions about sex, so I learned from the television I watched. And once we received free previews from some of the more adult channels without anyone's knowledge but my own, and, well, you can guess the rest. It became a form of entertainment for me. And it was a definite tool to pass time."

He laughed then, remembering something particularly funny. "And I remember – early on, when they had no idea why I took such long showers, I used to tell them that I had been diagnosed as a germophobe and was having a panic attack in there." He paused to catch his breath from the laughs, Vincent still staring at him in shock. "I was such an obnoxious little shit. But I guess some things never change.

"They learned quickly nonetheless, and began to leave me alone about it. And then, three years later, I met a young secretary assistant who had applied for the job to begin preparing money for tuition. Every time I'd look into her eyes, she'd shudder with a giggle. By then I had come up with excellent ways to evade the scientists and their probing eyes, so one night, I led her into an empty room in a temporarily deserted hallway, and that was that."

He sighed, the smile still resting upon his lips. "And so begins a lifelong quest of sexual dictatorship. She was fired the next day."

Vincent looked away, in disbelief at how cold and selfish Sephiroth just seemed. "Well, I know one thing," he said, making Sephiroth gaze at him in expectant silence. "Whoever we find to date you has to be extremely tolerant, and not very prone to jealousy."

"Actually, jealousy doesn't bother me," Sephiroth replied. "As long as it's not obsessive. I mean, _I'm_ naturally a jealous person, so it's only fair to allow my partner room for jealousy as well."

"I've never met a man quite like you," Vincent said. His tone signified that it wasn't quite a compliment.

Sephiroth smirked once again. "And you never will," he retorted cryptically.

Vincent took that moment to stand up off of the bed, flexing the muscles he hadn't been using while he sat. He didn't know what he wished to do, but he was done just talking. He was making no progress at finding a suitable partner for Sephiroth this way.

"What do you want to do now?"

"I was hoping you could point me in the direction of the restroom," Vincent muttered after some hesitation.

Sephiroth laughed. "I was wondering when you'd ask. The one on this floor is two doors to the right of this room." Then that impish look returned. "Planning on taking a shower while you're in there?"

Vincent bristled. "That's none of your business. Honestly, I'm not sure if I'm comfortable enough yet."

Sephiroth shook his head. "Well, if you're coming with me tonight, then you're taking one. In this state, you'll cause a lot of prospects to shy away from us."

Vincent bristled more, but couldn't think of anything witty to come back with. So he opted to turn away and head for the doorway.

"Oh, Vincent, hold on a minute."

He sullenly turned back again, and when he did, Sephiroth tossed him a few articles of clothing that he took from the dresser near his bed. Vincent only stood there at first, stunned.

"You should be able to fit into my things, right?"

"I believe so," Vincent said innocently. "I'm only an inch shorter than you." Then he noticed the last piece of clothing Sephiroth had tossed to him, and his eyes narrowed. "Thank you for the gesture, but I'm not wearing your underwear."

Sephiroth's eyes rolled. "Don't be childish. That's a perfectly good pair, and none of _your _things are even close to clean."

"But I-"

Sephiroth quieted him with a look. "Come on, Vince. What's it gonna hurt?"

"Don't nickname me," Vincent retorted. "And it _would _hurt something. My dignity."

"Oh, you'll have to forget about that, my friend. Your dignity's long behind you now."

Vincent didn't say a word to that effect. Sephiroth seemed smug, shooing Vincent away. "Now quit acting dumb and go take a shower. And take as much time as you need." He smiled slyly. "I'm sure you'll feel much better afterwards."

Vincent decided not to ask what Sephiroth meant by that smile. Some things were just better left unexplained.

So, he instead left the bedroom, traveled two doors to the right, as Sephiroth said, and entered the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. The bathroom was an adequate size, with the shower large enough for two people to walk its length, hand-in-hand.

Slowly, after throwing away the broken coffee mug, Vincent unbuckled, unzipped, and undressed. His metallic boots and glove were the most difficult pieces to remove, simply because he was always reluctant to see the ignored appendages inside of them. His feet weren't _that _unbearably offensive; they were scarred, veiny, and the toe nails were too long, no doubt – but they still resembled human feet. His hand… his hand was much worse.

In comparison to his right hand, this was monstrous. The fingers were longer, bonier, and ended in talon like points that had been known to tear easily through human flesh. The skin was brown, hard, and leathery, and when he clenched that hand, the bones almost protruded through the thin skin, tough as it seemed. It pained him to look at it for long, because it reminded him of just how bloodthirsty he could become.

Trying to forget himself, he dropped the clothing in a somewhat contained pile next to the toilet, relieved himself, flushed, then stepped into the shower, drew the curtain and twisted the faucet on, yelping at first from the extreme heat and then adjusting it to his liking.

The hot water felt almost alien, what with Vincent not having showered in what felt like an indeterminate amount of time. But once his skin adjusted to the long-absent sensation of being slick with water that wasn't initially sweat, his muscles relaxed quite nicely.

In fact, the cleansing was almost like a weight being lifted from him. He scrubbed himself close to raw with his bar of soap, getting rid of grime that might have grown into a living thing had it been left on any longer. It was wonderful to be clean again. Almost… erotic.

…_Why I took such long showers… _Vincent looked down at himself. His conversation with Sephiroth really put into perspective how inactive he was concerning pleasure. His parts might as well have not been his, for other than using the toilet, touching himself had become something unpleasant, and he avoided it whenever possible. But, for some strange reason, Sephiroth's words pushed him to forego his self-induced celibacy and wrap his right hand loosely round his member.

…_Take all the time you need… _It didn't take much to become fully erect. Steadying himself against the tile wall with his left hand, he proceeded to stroke himself roughly. It was odd to be so unfamiliar with his animal mechanisms; even though he had been back in animation since Cloud woke him from his coffin coma, he had overlooked simple acts like this that would have made his life feel a little more… normal.

…_You'll feel much better afterwards… _His mind clouded as he focused his energy on nothing but reaching his peak. The more pressure built, the more force and speed he exerted upon himself to finish the job. He breathed out a shallow breath; pressure, pressure, pressure, and then… With an upward tilt of his chin and a groan from his throat, Vincent released the heat as a convulsion of pleasure racked his body.

His legs shook for a moment. Recovering, the fog lifted from him, and he felt so much clearer of mind and lighter of spirit. He blinked, straightened up, a tad ashamed of himself, and wiped off the mess he made against the wall so that it could properly run down the drain. Then, after a minute's idleness, he proceeded to wash the rest of his body, including that birds' nest atop his head.

After the shower, Vincent rubbed all over himself with one of the very large towels he found in the cabinet beside the sink, both thoroughly drying and soothing that aggravating itch along his spine. While he patted dry other, more sensitive parts of his body, he spotted a pair of large hairbrushes – a deadly-looking wire piece of weaponry and its much less ominous bristle counterpart – sitting side-by-side on the counter.

He rolled his eyes; he imagined Sephiroth sitting on the toilet lid down, lovingly stroking his silver hair. The man was quite vain. Subconsciously, Vincent attempted to run his fingers through his own hair, almost immediately catching in the matted ebony knots. He grimaced, then looked at the brushes sheepishly. Maybe he could learn some things from being vain.

Picking up the wire thing gingerly, for fear that it might bite him if he became too familiar with it, he slowly began to brush out his hair (which, as anyone could imagine, becomes fairly tangled after thirty unkempt years.)

Twenty incredibly painful minutes (Vincent held the unfortunate position of a tender-head,) and five considerable wads of damaged hair later, Vincent was able to finally fully dress himself in disgust. He left the bathroom, almost estranged by his new light-weight clothing, smooth hair, and oil-free skin. He had become so complacent with his grizzly appearance that he almost felt like a changed man.

He walked back to Sephiroth's bedroom, readjusting his glove back onto his left hand and flexing his feet inside of his boots. In fact, his armor was the only part of his previous wardrobe that he knew he'd be allowed to rewear. (He didn't want to admit to Sephiroth that he'd complied and worn the man's underwear.)

When he entered the room, he instantly froze. The barrel of the Death Penalty was staring him down, as a now pajama-clad Sephiroth pointed the gun at him with a joking smirk. But soon Sephiroth flipped the gun in his hand, barrel away from both of them, and set it on the bed next to him. "Hello, handsome," Sephiroth sniggered, eyeing Vincent up and down. "My, how you clean up nicely."

Vincent flustered at the unexpected compliment. But, in Sephiroth's case, it still sounded like a jest, so he thought nothing more of it. He glanced down at his beloved gun. Since he'd tried so very hard to put that first night in the mansion in the back of his mind, he had almost forgotten that Sephiroth stole it. "Do you ever plan on giving that back to me?"

Sephiroth followed his gaze. "I haven't decided yet. It's such a magnificent gun; I might want it for keeps."

"What happened to _your _weapon of choice?"

Sephiroth sighed in melancholy. "You mean my beautiful Masumune? I wasn't able to retrieve the sword after it was lost the first time. I didn't really need it anyway, if my venture into the living realm this time was to be an utterly peaceful one."

"Hm. I see."

Sephiroth stretched his legs, standing and moving the gun from his bed to his bedside dresser. That was when Vincent spotted the laptop sitting there, seeming pleased with itself. "Oh, I forgot to ask – did you find anyone worth noting while I was gone yesterday?"

Sephiroth chuckled. "Not a one. I suppose you were right. I _am _too picky." He strode toward the doorway, and, right as he passed, he clapped Vincent on the shoulder. "No matter," he said lightheartedly. "I have a feeling our venture tonight will prove fruitful."

Vincent nodded, following Sephiroth out of the bedroom. They were both traveling down to the second floor, into the room where Vincent had last left the dye and contacts. Vincent watched Sephiroth's magnificent hair move as he walked. "How much of your hair do you think we'll need to cut to make your transformation realistic?"

Sephiroth halted in his tracks, and Vincent had to do the same in order to keep himself from bumping into him from behind. "You didn't say anything about me cutting my hair." He almost sounded frightened.

Vincent crossed his arms, even though Sephiroth didn't see. "Well, no – but didn't you think that it would be necessary? Not many men your height have hair at least over four feet long."

Sephiroth stood there for a few seconds, silent, then resumed his march, not once looking back at Vincent. Vincent followed. "How much do you plan on cutting?" Sephiroth asked him.

"There's going to have to be about twenty inches removed." He could've sworn he saw Sephiroth's body flinch. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"It took me years to grow my hair this long…" Sephiroth sighed in capitulation. "No… I suppose there's no problem."

They retrieved the bag, and with a quick run into the kitchen to fetch the scissors, the two (Sephiroth, albeit reluctantly,) stepped into the second floor bathroom for a little maintenance. Sephiroth was incredibly cooperative, considering that he was completely indignant about the loss of so much hair.

It was much less uncomfortable than Vincent expected to brush out all of Sephiroth's hair himself. Sephiroth didn't complain once, and he took such wonderful care of his hair. Vincent clipped through the silver carpet with ease, and when it was over, he prided himself on such even work.

Sephiroth knew immediately when he and the length of his hair parted ways. When Vincent pronounced that he was finished, Sephiroth turned unhappily, saw the mess of silver on the floor, and delicately picked the tresses off of the ground.

Vincent chuckled silently to himself at how feminine the former general was being. "Would you like me to help you with dyeing your hair as well?"

Sephiroth held the abandoned hair tightly in his hand. "No, I think you've done enough. I can take it from here."

Vincent nodded at the silly man. "Do you need a change of clothes?"

"…I'll pick them out. You go into your bedroom and don't leave it until I come to fetch you. Alright?"

Even though he thought that was extremely unreasonable, Vincent bowed in compliance. "Alright." Then he left and went to his designated room.

Closing the door behind him as he entered, Vincent begrudgingly sat on his bed, feeling like a punished child. And he waited. And waited. And waited. For at least over an hour.

In the meantime, he heard all sorts of scuffling outside; Sephiroth must have been very busy. And when his door finally _did_ open, he didn't stare once at the man. "It's about time."

"How do I look?"

Vincent turned his head a fraction to look in the direction of the voice, but when he spotted Sephiroth, he rotated his entire body to have an awestruck second look. The man standing before him was clad in a prep school green button-up and a pair of khakis. The lock of hair coming down to his chin was as reddish-brown as his eyebrows, and when he rotated pompously on the souls of his feet, Vincent saw that the full length of that reddish-brown hair, pulled loosely into a ponytail, billowed out to mid-back. His eyes were as defiant as always, but the mako glow was most cleverly disguised by irises that seemed as if they were made of the deepest emerald.

Vincent didn't say anything for several seconds, instead just standing there with his mouth open. He only came back into reality when Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, saying, "Your stunned silence isn't very reassuring."

Vincent lowered his eyes. "Pardon me." He noticed that Sephiroth was barefooted, and despite the scorched skin on his left, the man had almost _dainty _feet. "I'm just impressed," Vincent said, lifting his gaze again, a teasing glow on his lips. "You look normal for once."

Sephiroth snorted, crossing his arms. "You're one to talk," he scoffed, catching his own eye in the mirror on the wall and stopping to admire himself. "Although I _do _have to admit that I look good."

Vincent cocked his head to the side a bit, studying the narcissistic thing smiling at his reflection. "You know, I don't get you," he admonished, prompting the man to tilt and look at Vincent with only one eye, a bit uneager to tear away from the image of this new him. "From what stories I've heard of you," Vincent continued, "even before the instant when Jenova possessed you, you always acted very dry. You were anti-social, seldom talked, and your laugh always had bite in it. Even the SOLDIERS that thought of you as their hero were afraid of you and your enigmatic ways." He then held his hands out to emphasize his words. "When did _that _man become _this _one?"

The ordinary gleam in Sephiroth's smiles was dormant. "I didn't have an appreciation for life then," he said quietly. "I felt as if the world owed me a favor. _Many _favors, actually… After-all, I was everyone's hero, but it seemed like I had nothing to show for it. No true friends…only people that 'looked up to me,' like you said." He ran his fingers through the hair draped around his face. "I'm different now. Although it may _seem _like I'm more immature than I was, I assure you, it's quite the opposite. I love being here. I love being alive." His smile got wider. "And that makes me _so _much more handsome."

Vincent smiled too. He wondered how many people in the world knew how human this freak of nature really was. "I'm sure the girls we meet tonight will feel the same."

Sephiroth laughed a hearty laugh. The way laughs were supposed to be. "My thoughts exactly."

* * *

_**Look everyone, I HAVEN'T given up on this story! Yay! Please cross me off your hit lists.**_

_**You cannot believe how sorry I am that it took so freakin' long to update. Apologies from the deepest crevices of my heart. And I know it's mostly just dialogue. Just needed to tie up loose ends. I'm sorry for that too - no throwing fruit!**_

_**Oh, and for all you accuracy critics - yes, I HAVE played the game before, and I know I'm not following the setup of the Mansion or Seph's past to exactness. I just wanted to experiment with what sounded best in MY story. Still, technically it's not completely AU. **_

_**I hope you like it. And, with luck, this will be my LAST major transition chapter! There's a ton of plot (in my mind) and fluffiness in the next chap.**_


	6. A Heartfelt Apology to All the Readers

For all of you that have been following the story, thank you so much for everything—all the kind words, all the encouragement. But it's been too long now; I've been working on other pieces that are more important to me, and the inspiration for this story has left me completely. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to write from the point of view of this particular Vincent Valentine again. So, in order to make up for disappointing you all, I'd like to ask you a question. I'd already previously written every plot point that is truly essential for this story (yes, including the juiciest bits) and, although I would have to explain the transition points, the pulp is still there. Would you like me to post what I have? I know it's a cop-out, and I very deeply regret that, but it's better than letting the story go unfinished, in my opinion. Tell me what you think. (Except shaedey—don't you say a word. It's already very obvious what you think.)


	7. Lust, Jealousy, and Alcohol

**_WARNING: For anyone that didn't read my last chapter, this chapter (what would have been Chapter 6) is not fully complete. I have written small commentary paragraphs in bold in the gaps between (not to be confused with Vincent's fuzzy drunken talk written in bold for comedy's sake). I know I have a jumpy writing format... But hopefully my commentary won't be too annoying and the chapter will still make sense. I hope you all still like it._**

* * *

(Several hours later…)

What a hellish night. Even from the beginning, the disgusting way in which women threw themselves at Sephiroth's feet wore on Vincent's nerves, and it only grew worse as the night progressed.

Perhaps it wasn't so bad, when they were still preparing for the night. But that was when they were alone together, without a single estrogen hormone in sight.

Sephiroth was cocky and impudent, and seemed to swagger where he stood. "Aren't you ready _yet_?" he called up the stairs to Vincent, who was taking care of some last minute schedule maintenance on the computer. "I don't want the ladies to have to miss another minute of _this_."

"Hold on," he sighed back, exasperated already, closing the laptop. "The next train leaves in twenty minutes," he said as he stepped down the stairs, Sephiroth impatiently waiting at the bottom. "If we hurry on foot, we'll make it in time."

Sephiroth responded with a nostalgic chuckle. "The Gold Saucer…" he mused, a smile in his eyes. "I haven't visited the Gold Saucer since before the Wutai war. I'm looking forward to it."

Vincent nodded, opening the front door and meeting the cool night air. "I definitely think it'd be the best place within reach to find large amounts of single, fun-seeking women."

"But what if I find an opportunity for batting for the other team that's too promising to pass up?"

Vincent sarcastically examined the younger man, whose smirk was just a little too mischievous. "For my sake," he said, "please – just make it about women tonight. Other agendas can come later." Sephiroth closed his eyes with that smirk, but said nothing else.

They left the house together, Sephiroth shutting the door behind him. It remained unlocked.

"Doesn't the door have _any_ sort of locking mechanism?" Vincent asked. "Is it a good idea to just leave it like this?"

Sephiroth laughed. "Well, it _used_ to, but the first set of brats broke it long ago, and I couldn't very well replace it and keep up the town's ghost theory, could I? And besides…" He patted the large double doors affectionately. "Do you really think that anyone would go in there after a guy was murdered?"

He looked at Vincent then. "And most people believe that you're still on the case."

"Technically, I still am," Vincent replied, and started walking down the front steps, Sephiroth in toe.

"That was something I always wanted to ask you," Sephiroth began from behind Vincent. "Wasn't anyone _suspicious_ about you wanting hair dye and contacts?"

"Most of these people don't know what Shinra's investigator looks like. They probably just thought I was some random recluse they'd never bothered to find out existed. The clerk at the vision center seemed very unassuming."

"Don't you just _love_ places where the people don't ask any questions?"

The pair walked toward the station side-by-side, their silhouettes passing under the shadows of several street lights that were still yet to be lit. Golden light poured from the windows of the houses, laughter and television sets heard from within. Not many Nibelheimians roamed the streets these nights; Vincent loved the fact that the Mansion faced the sleepy side of town.

"Amazing how a place this constant can change in four years," Sephiroth mumbled, as what lie ahead of them metamorphosized, and the beautiful homes thinned to reveal more apartment buildings, one or two scattered bars and cafés, the supermarket, and, at the very end, the summit of Nibelheim's slow-moving advance in technology – the train station.

Two years ago, all the cities on the western continent agreed to the mass production of a grand railway system – no longer did someone have to rent a land buggy in order to stay connected with all the remote towns. Escape was now easier for both the ambitious types _and_ the fun-deprived.

"If only Rufus had been that clever when Shinra was still in full power, eh?" Sephiroth asked, seeming to read Vincent's mind. Vincent said nothing in return, moving ahead so that he could buy the tickets.

The train station was possibly the quietist little station of any station in the world; not many were interested in escaping to an inactive burg in an uninteresting location on a forgettable night. That, and it was a Sunday – not many Nibelheim residents made it a point to go gamble or get shit-faced on a Sunday.

**Gold Saucer, here they come! Once they get on the train, Vincent gets the idea in his head to see how much of a flirt Sephiroth really is, and he starts a little chart. The left side of the paper is headed: "Interested in." Current tally: 0. The right side is headed: "Flirted with." Current tally: 4. All of those accumulated in that very small time interacting with other people in the station. Foreshadowing of Vincent's nightmares to come? Possibly. **

"What's that?"

Vincent looked over his shoulder to see Sephiroth's luminous green eyes staring back at him, alight with curiosity. He chuckled. "Oh, I'm just conducting a little experiment."

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed, full of feigned suspicion. "You keeping tabs on me?"

And to that Vincent shot back, "I just want to know how much progress on average you can make in a normal night."

Sephiroth's eyes traveled down to the little paper with its little lines. "Well, you know…" he mumbled, "…you're missing one."

Vincent's brow scrunched as his gaze returned to the tally as well, wondering how he may have miscalculated. "Really?"

"Yeah." One of Sephiroth's long, handsome fingers pressed itself into the left side of the paper. "You're missing one over here."

Vincent looked back at Sephiroth. "Really?! Which girl was it?! Did you get her number?"

Sephiroth grinned and closed his eyes, simply poking the little ticket again. "Just mark it."

Taken aback at the younger man's secrecy, Vincent became sulky but did in fact put a small mark on the left section of the tiny sheet. "I sure hope you got her number."

**Sephiroth didn't **_**say**_** it was necessarily a girl he was interested in. Kinda funny how Vincent didn't notice the insinuation.**

The moment Sephiroth set foot on Gold Saucer ground, the ostentatious side of his baser nature surfaced, and his flirting developed into a blatant and almost sickening display. He wore outrageousness as his overcoat of choice, and it was Vincent's unfortunate position of keeping watch on the man as he gallivanted about.

Even the woman selling tickets at the entrance to the Gold Saucer wasn't safe from Sephiroth's piercing gaze and liquid smile. "W-would you like a lifetime pass, sir?" she asked quietly, blushing once she realized how beautiful he was.

"How long do you plan on working here?" he asked back, dipping his words in honey.

Vincent, standing a little behind Sephiroth, kicked Sephiroth's left heel very hard. 'This isn't the place,' that kick said silently. 'Wait 'till we're inside.'

Sephiroth only grimaced a second from the pain, regaining his composure to do what he was supposed to. "Two regular passes, angel," he drawled sweetly. She giggled, pressing the passes to her nose before handing them over. Vincent touched Sephiroth's elbow then, and with a mutually stubborn look, Vincent was able to drag Sephiroth inside.

Vincent remembered immediately how much he was annoyed by this place, with all of its bothersome, gaily lit doorways and far too cheerful music. "Where to first?"

As if to answer him, a sudden influx of cheers burst from the tube leading to Chocobo Square. Sephiroth grinned deviously. "Looks like fate made my decision for me," he declared, and leapt into the tube before Vincent could protest or suggest something better.

Sephiroth was already up the staircase and into the coliseum by the time Vincent followed.

**A God-awful three or four hours ensues, consisting of nothing but Sephiroth hitting on every girl he sees, and Vincent having to watch. Even Ester, the chocobo lady. Remember her from the game? Eww, Sephiroth. Eww. Vincent soon becomes thoroughly annoyed, but since he hasn't yet figured out that he does indeed have a thing for Sephiroth, he can't figure out **_**why**_** he's annoyed. It only begins to sink in after an interesting Battle Square match. A new feature has been added in Battle Square where two friends can fight each other in a mock battle with any weapon of their choice. Sephiroth chooses the katana and Vincent chooses the handgun. Gee, I wonder why. The battle starts out slowly, with some pompous flappery on Sephiroth's part, but eventually they go at each other pretty strongly. Problem is, neither of them can touch each other. Once Sephiroth is able to knock the gun from Vincent's hand and throw him off-balance, and it looks like Sephiroth will win, but then Vincent somehow steadies himself with his hands and kicks Sephiroth in the chest, knocking Sephiroth onto his back and causing the katana to be lost.**

At first Vincent thought that this was an opportunity for victory, but somehow Sephiroth tripped him, and he went down as well. After that the weapons were forgotten and the battle became an epic wrestling match. It only ended when Sephiroth rolled on top of Vincent and pinned him, laughing smugly. Vincent's hand was on Sephiroth's chin, attempting to push him away.

Sephiroth's smile was harmless enough, but there was something about the warmth in his eyes that heated Vincent's stomach. Suddenly, he felt incredibly, _acutely_ awkward, and lying underneath his friend was the last place in the world he wanted to be.

Luckily, his savior came quickly, in the form of the automated warning that stated that the fight had one minute left to go. Suddenly they were reminded of the time limit they were under and the fact that they both had not sustained any decrease in HP. Sephiroth looked into Vincent's eyes deviously, and while still pinning him, he reached for the sword lying on the ground behind them. But Vincent's gun was much closer, and in a moment of unusual cunning, he took the pistol and shot Sephiroth in the chest right when Sephiroth turned round.

Sephiroth fell backwards off of Vincent, suffering a rare 999 hit and therefore a KO since they were only allowed 500 HP. The arena rang with mechanical victory notes, and the screens around them flashed with the celebratory "PLAYER 1 WINS!! PLAYER 1 WINS!!"

(Later, again in Nibelheim…)

The train ride returning to Nibelheim was insufferably quiet. Sephiroth's gaze stayed on only the train window, and it was obvious that he had no intention of looking in Vincent's direction. Vincent himself fidgeted helplessly in his seat. They might as well have been a young couple, because Vincent felt like a boyfriend who had done a wrong and now had to apologize for it. The idea caused a strange twinge in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't like it.

Finally he could stand no more silence. "Are you angry with me?" he asked quietly, attempting poorly to disguise his agitation.

Sephiroth chuckled but still did not look at Vincent's face. "Impressed, more like," he said. "Your behavior in Battle Square was quite exemplary. It was almost like something I would have done. I liked it."

Vincent remained miffed. "Then why won't you look at me?" he pleaded.

That caught Sephiroth's attention. He turned his head from the window, his eyes very much open when he looked into Vincent's. Then he laughed again, something new in his gaze. Suddenly he drew up close to Vincent, forcing Vincent to push himself back into his seat. Their foreheads almost touched, eyes boring into eyes. Sephiroth whispered, "Is my eye contact that important to you?"

Vincent's face once again grew hot. He had this unshakable notion that Sephiroth planned to kiss him, but he couldn't make his body struggle. "Why do you mock me?" he admonished, no hint of the warning he wanted to display in his voice. He just sounded pitiful instead. He saw Sephiroth glance down at his lips, seeming to consider that kiss Vincent was afraid of.

"This isn't mockery," Sephiroth mumbled. "It's an invitation."

Then he turned away, no longer pinning Vincent under that hungry stare.

**How the hell was Vincent supposed to react to that? He didn't know either. Let's just say that those awkward silences the pair has shared before amounted to nothing compared to the train ride home. An almost unbearable awkwardness. So, once they made it back to Nibelheim, in Sephiroth's own backwards way, he decided to make it up to Vincent by goading him into the nearest bar and getting him absolutely snockered. As if that's supposed to make everything better. Maybe Sephiroth knows something we don't? Anyway, they go against Vincent's better judgment, Vincent orders a vodka tonic, Sephiroth a Harvey Wall-banger (most likely because of the ambiguous name), and just as Vincent figures, "Hey, maybe I **_**will **_**have fun," a song from Pink comes on over the stereo, and he meets his future nemesis.**

The music began modestly enough, the song spunky and loaded with female empowerment. Vincent never would have suspected that anything could arise from a simple pop song, but when the woman in the maroon scarf scaled a bar table, all activity ceased as everyone watched.

She tapped her foot in time with the beat, her hands playfully pressed against her hips. Her elastic-like cocktail dress accentuated the bob her endowments made as she sang and danced. Every male in the pub was entranced by the provocative look in her maple-brown eyes as she tossed her sandy, gingerbread-colored hair back from her shoulders.

Then, when the chorus played, all hell broke loose. _"I'm not here for your entertainment… You don't really wanna mess with me tonight."_ Using kung fu-like kicks, she launched her stilettos into the air, shaking her bod with gusto. _"Just stop and take a second… I was fine before you walked into my life."_

The only time Vincent's gaze left the girl was when Sephiroth caught the right shoe, his altered eyes examining the slipper as if on a sexual high. He licked his lips, meeting Vincent's stare with a triumphant grin, then returning his eyes to her, who was currently flaunting her way toward the other lucky soul with the other flirtatious shoe.

"'_Cause you know it's over… before it began…"_ Standing on one foot, she let him slide it gingerly onto her other, as he kissed her shin and ankle repeatedly. But when the slipper was securely back on her foot, she caught the man off guard by crushing her pointed heel into his groin. _"Keep your drink; just give me the money… It's just you and your hand tonight!"_

Every man in the place winced, the man in question doubling over in shock and pain. At that moment, the woman caught sight of her other shoe, still very much in Sephiroth's hands. And as she sauntered over to it, the other women in her party took it upon themselves to stand and dance on the table as well, taking her place and taking her attention.

She seemed to prefer it that way, though, because when she came up to Sephiroth and Vincent, her demeanor wasn't half as showy as before. "Well, whaddya know," she said to herself, even though Vincent knew the statement was directed at Sephiroth. "I had no idea that actual _men _came to this joint."

Sephiroth smirked, licking his lips again. He held out her slipper. "Your shoe, m'lady."

Vincent glanced at Sephiroth, really disliking the appetent look in his eyes. The woman raised an eyebrow, flashing her own lusty grin as she daintily balanced on one foot and slipped her stiletto on. Then, when both of her heels were on the bar floor, Sephiroth's jaw dropped in feigned surprise. "What, no testicular impalement?"

She giggled at that. Vincent had to admit she was a handsome woman, her fleshy, heart-shaped face full of pure expression. But something inside of him just didn't settle right when she placed her palm upon Sephiroth's cheek, her French-manicured fingernails brushing coyly against the skin. "You kidding? Honey, with a face _this _beautiful, it would be a downright crime to render you sterile."

Sephiroth's gaze was so feral. "What's your name?"

Her hand slid from his cheek to her neck, where she untied her scarf and then draped it around Sephiroth's shoulders. "Natasha. Yours?"

Vincent's eyes widened as he searched Sephiroth's face. What kind of answer would he give? Sephiroth nonchalantly tied the scarf around his neck as he said, "I have many names, but I suppose you can call me… Todd."

Vincent sighed in relief as quietly as he could, although he thought Sephiroth's choice was comical. The man just didn't look like a "Todd." But Natasha seemed satisfied, reaching two fingers into her cleavage to masterfully pull out a key. She took "Todd's" hand, palm up, and placed the key into it. "Meet me at the apartment building two blocks down, in room 217."

Sephiroth held a tiny smile on his lips as he closed his fingers around the object. He suddenly gave Vincent the impression of a leopard about to jump down from his tree onto the back of an unsuspecting gazelle. "Alas, if I am to go along with such a thing, dear, then I guarantee you that I won't be able to stay all night."

She smiled again, taking a piece of his hair and twirling it about her fingers. "Don't worry. What I want from you won't take all night."

Vincent sneered to himself, thoroughly disgusted with the pair's conversation.

"But, I _must_ say, if all you want from me is a simple release of lust, then I'm afraid I must decline. I'm looking for a smart girl wanting commitment, not a common, loveless whore." Vincent snuck another glance at Sephiroth. His face was quite emotionless, despite such a bold move.

But nothing seemed to deter this woman, because she then brushed Sephiroth's bangs away from his forehead, kissed a bit of the skin and mumbled, "You _are_ an oddity, aren't you?"

Something among Vincent's internals growled angrily when she did so, and he could only hope to Holy that it was his stomach.

Then she moved back from him with one last sultry smile. "Believe me; if you're as dark, sexy, and intriguing as you look, then my left ring finger's gonna feel naked by the time you leave." And with that, she headed for the bar door, and Vincent had to turn swiftly to his drink so as not to make eye contact with her.

Then, when he heard the bell jingle that told him she had left completely, he looked up to see that Sephiroth had already bridged the gap between them and was sitting to his direct right. He pompously dangled the keys in front of Vincent's eyes. "Hook, line, and sinker," he said.

Vincent glared at him. "That was disgusting."

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. "What was? Me receiving the attention of a beautiful woman?"

"No. What was disgusting was you accepting sex from a total stranger, who could be carrying three hundred or so STD's."

He rolled his eyes. "She seemed much too good for that. And besides: that's what condoms are for."

Vincent made an incredibly sophisticated gagging gesture. "I still don't think it's a good idea. I don't trust her."

Sephiroth laughed, prying the tonic away from his hands and finishing it off. "I see an opportunity, and I jump for it," he admonished, setting the empty glass on the counter, "instead of just letting it pass by like _some_ people."

Then he got out of his seat, stretched, and placed a hand on Vincent's shoulder. "Go back to the mansion and wait for me there," he whispered, "and I'll be home in about three hours or so."

Vincent turned to him and squared him with his gaze, brushing his hand away. "Just know that it's _your_ life you're endangering – not mine."

Sephiroth grinned at that, looking extremely virile as he strode out of the bar after the girl. Vincent placed his head on the cold, hard counter, and hopelessly ordered another drink.

(Later that evening…)

After Vincent's sixth vodka tonic, the bartender politely urged him to quit drinking and go home. In his drunken stupor, he complied easily, staggering out of the pub and looking around him, feeling a stranger in a strange land.

**The tender told him to go home. Sure thing; he could do that. Now, where was home again?** He seemed to recall having lived in Nibelheim for the past week, so he'd go there. **Yeah, Nibelheim… Wait, wasn't he already in Nibelheim? **He supposed he was. **So, now what? The Shinra Mansion? Why would he go there? …Because Sephiroth told him to.**

He began his lopsided march toward the manor, which he could see from where he was standing. Otherwise, in this state, there was no promise that he'd make it. **Sephiroth… Sephiroth? Oh yeah, Sephiroth. Didn't he die awhile back? Yeah… then he came back to life.**

**What was Sephiroth doing now,** he wondered. **Probably screwing that slut from the bar. But why was he angry about that? Wasn't he supposed to help Sephiroth fall in love? Yeah, but not with her. And he went right against Vincent and slept with her anyway. Asshole.**

He was now in view of the mansion steps. **You know what? He should leave. Yeah. Then there wouldn't be anyone for Sephiroth to come home to. That'd show him.** But, despite his seemingly finite resolution, he headed up the steps anyway. **He'd just need to grab his cell, then he'd leave for good.** Two steps. **Then that cheating bastard would be sorry.** Five steps. **Wait – cheating? Why was Sephiroth a cheater? It wasn't like they were lovers… Were they?**

He had made it to the top of the eighth step and grasped the handle before his dizziness affected him. When it did, though, he slumped to his knees. **Oh… He didn't feel right…** His vision blurred. **Did he have to go to sleep out here? **He was losing consciousness. **He hadn't even… made it into… the house yet…**

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

He woke to the cushion of a manor bed beneath him, a peculiar, fleshy warmth supporting his head, and an indescribably sweet smell encompassing him. He yawned, his hangover headache choosing now to hit him like a ton of bricks. He winced, breathing in more of that delicious smell, which seemed to soothe him, to his surprise. It eased the pain like a potent salve being applied to his forehead.

He opened his eyes, to find the room pitch-black. That didn't really bother him, though; his enhanced vision wasn't hindered at all by light or lack thereof. He also found himself staring intently at said fleshy cushion, which moved in and out with life. The muscles rippled when they moved, and the skin was surprisingly pale, beautiful like moonlight. Then it occurred to him to ask himself why he was admiring Sephiroth's naked chest.

Sephiroth's naked chest. Holy shit! He stiffened, wondering why in hell he was sleeping in Sephiroth's bed with Sephiroth half-naked. He _was_ only _half_-naked, right? Horrified, Vincent hesitantly lifted up the sheet they were both lying under. Then he sighed in exasperation and relief. At least Sephiroth still had shorts on.

The movement made Sephiroth groan and wrap his arm sleepily around Vincent, pulling him closer. Vincent froze innately, and was now feeling extremely awkward in Sephiroth's embrace. He had never in his life wanted to be this close with another man. Thank Holy it was Sephiroth, who could laugh off anything Vincent was too sensitive about.

In fact, the _fact alone_ that it was Sephiroth partially relaxed the tense situation. And plus, Vincent didn't want to wake the younger man, considering how little sleep he seemed to receive.

Vincent caught himself. Why was it that his feelings toward Sephiroth had become so abnormally tender? After some reflection, he quickly grew disturbed when thinking upon his own actions the night before. Every woman – every _single_ one – that had shown any interest in Sephiroth Vincent had tried to turn away. And when that girl at the bar had captured his interests so, Vincent could feel his insides begin to boil.

Why? Even now, no matter how uncomfortable he was, he just couldn't push Sephiroth away. Instead, his eyes began to close sluggishly, (his worries momentarily forgotten,) his human hand sliding along Sephiroth's exposed hip so that they could better their hold on one another. Sephiroth grunted, squeezing Vincent tight, and Vincent realized that the soothing scent had come from Sephiroth.

Vincent shifted his head to find a more comfortable position, causing his lips to touch the place on Sephiroth's body where his cheek had been. Sephiroth shivered, and Vincent smiled, heading toward sleep again, until his knee accidentally rubbed up against an intimate spot on Sephiroth's body. Then his eyes flew open to their maximum, him being fully awake now.

He had just touched Sephiroth's groin, and Sephiroth had an erection. A very, very _large_ erection.

In one impossible, inhuman movement, Vincent flung himself away from Sephiroth's touch, and ultimately off of the bed and onto the hardwood floor. Sephiroth awoke instantly, looking around himself for the suddenly missing body. "Vincent?!"

Vincent answered unhappily, grasping a handful of sheets and hoisting himself back up into view from the floor. Sephiroth stared at him in a quizzical, silly, still half-asleep manner. "What are you doing on the floor?"

Vincent gave him a very dirty look. Now that Sephiroth's smell wasn't as strong, the headache came roaring back, and Vincent pressed a hand to his skull. That was when he remembered that he _didn't_ remember anything about last night after Sephiroth had left the bar. It was the next morning, right? "What… What happened?"

Sephiroth shrugged, yawning and stretching like a lazy lion. "I dunno… You tell me. When I got here, you were passed out on the Mansion steps and soaked to the bone with rain. So I took you inside, dried off your hair, and tried to keep you warm after that." Then he raised an eyebrow, staring at Vincent with a smile that was almost reprimanding. "How much _did_ you drink last night? I haven't seen anyone that sloshed in awhile."

Vincent sat back upon the bed, rubbing his head with both hands, his back turned to Sephiroth. "So, what happened with that girl from the bar?"

"You mean Natasha? Indescribable. The best sex I've had in awhile. Actually, it's the _only_ sex I've had in awhile." A laugh. "Anyway, that's beside the point. She was also a great conversationalist, and we hit it off nicely. She wants to see me again, as well."

"Great." Actually, it didn't sound great to Vincent at all. It just made him feel forgotten about and shitty.

"Hey," Sephiroth mumbled warmly, moving on the bed to place a hand on Vincent's shoulder and turn him around. Vincent didn't want to meet those eyes, but when he did, he saw that Sephiroth had removed his contacts. He looked extremely strange with that plain, bland tawny hair color and those contradictory, extravagant aquatic-green eyes. "Why do you sound so unhappy? What's wrong? Isn't this what we were striving for?"

Vincent huffed a breath through his nostrils. "I told you that I didn't like her."

Sephiroth rolled his eyes, releasing his hold on Vincent's shoulder and falling onto his back on the bed. "Oh, you're just jealous because I scored the hot babe and you didn't."

No, that wasn't quite it. There was definitely jealousy, like Sephiroth said, but it didn't seem to be placed in quite the right direction. But Vincent would try with all his might to ignore it. He would never admit to having feelings that sensible, _heterosexual_ men didn't have. It just didn't make sense.

Vincent put his hand into his pocket, pulling out the small slip of paper he had used as his banner of hope before. Now staring at all those little tallies just made him angry, as he felt that they were pointless all along.

So, as Sephiroth lied upon his bed with closed eyes, meditating on successful ventures with _Natasha_ to come, Vincent bitterly tore the paper into strips, shoving the strips back into his pocket afterward. He'd throw them away later.

* * *

**_So, what do you think? I know it'll never be quite as satisfying as a fully finished and flowing chapter, but... *shrug* It's all I can offer. I do so wish I could have finished all the filler bits, but it seemed that once I had written down the important parts, there was no coherent and entertaining way to get from point A to B. Please review and tell me how I can make my authorization failure a bit less frustrating._**


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